


Just This Once

by benicemurphy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Universe, Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stress Relief, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: “How about a drink?” he tries. “I could use the company.”He waits, watching Riza watch him. He doesn’t want to admit how badly he wants her to come inside. Maybe she already knows, anyway.She sighs, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “One drink,” she agrees.This is a dance they’ve been doing for a long time, just skirting the line of what’s acceptable. Their interactions are sometimes more intimate than their professional relationship warrants, but they are never inappropriate. It never goes too far. Never.Until it does.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 25
Kudos: 186





	Just This Once

“You seem stressed.”

Roy lifts his head from his desk, where it’s been resting in defeat for the past ten-or-so minutes. “Excellent observational skills as always, Lieutenant. That’s why they call you Hawkeye.” The page stuck to his face flutters back onto the desk.

“No, it’s not,” Riza snorts. “With all due respect, Colonel, you look like hell.”

Roy sighs. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

There’s a long, loaded pause as Roy’s thoughts catch up with his mouth.

“Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“Yes, it was. Come on, let me give you a ride home.”

“There’s work to be done,” Roy argues.

“There will always be work to be done,” Riza retorts. “You need rest. You’ve done enough work for today.”

“Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant, but—”

“You’re no good to any of us if you run yourself ragged, Sir.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. He knows better than to try and argue with her, anyway.

“Of course,” he sighs. “You’re right. I’ll get my coat.”

It’s only when she raises the coat in her arms that he sees she was never going to take no for answer.

“Thanks,” he says, coming around to retrieve his coat. It’s nice, he thinks, fleetingly, to have someone who cares.

They walk in comfortable silence to Riza’s car. Roy has always loved this car, even more so when Riza is driving it. Riza’s favorite rock station plays softly on the drive home.

It’s more than he expects when she walks him to his door.

“How about a drink?” he tries. “I could use the company.”

He waits, watching Riza watch him. He doesn’t want to admit how badly he wants her to come inside. Maybe she already knows, anyway.

She sighs, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “One drink,” she agrees.

This is a dance they’ve been doing for a long time, just skirting the line of what’s acceptable. Their interactions are sometimes more intimate than their professional relationship warrants, but they are never inappropriate. It never goes too far. Never.

Until it does.

One drink turns to two, turns to three, turns to _Are you hungry? I’m sure I could whip something up_ , turns to _I love this song. Won’t you dance with me? Just this once?_

And that’s where the night should end. That’s what Roy expects. Riza keeps him in check. She never lets him get too far — never lets them cross that line.

Except, tonight... Tonight she mirrors him when he angles his body toward hers. Tonight she tastes the sauce from the wooden spoon when he holds it out to her. When he lets his touch linger on her fingers as he passes her another glass, she doesn’t pull away or frown. Tonight, she sways a little closer while they dance. It’s not _just this once_ , it’s every time Roy pulls her close with one hand and settles the other against the small of her back, and when the music fades out, they don’t pull away from each other.

“You were right,” Roy murmurs, lips grazing Riza’s ear. He can just feel the shiver she’s not quite able to suppress. “I did need a break.”

“I said you needed rest, not a break.”

“Same principle.”

“Not exactly,” she teases. “And you still look like hell.”

Roy huffs a laugh. “Maybe that’s just how I look.”

“Hmm.”

It’s unlike her to ignore an opportunity to tease him.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Just thinking,” she hedges.

He takes a chance and pulls her a little closer so they’re flush together. He hasn’t felt her this close since... since well before they were Colonel and Lieutenant.

The hand on her back works its way up, slowly, lingering in the places he remembers to be the most badly burned.

“Thinking about what?”

“Stress,” she says, “and how weighed down you’ve been recently. How much much we’ve all been going through. Especially you.”

“My stress is no more important than yours or anyone else’s,” he answers.

“Your burden is my burden, Colonel. I thought you’d understand that by now.”

He wants to kiss her. God, he _wants_ to. It would be so easy — they’re so close, and the mood is right; all he’d have to do is tilt his head _just so_ — but he won’t. He won’t be the one to make that move.

“Maybe it’s the drinks, but I’m not sure I follow,” Roy says.

Riza swallows, and Roy feels it where his cheek is pressed to hers.

“I’m suggesting — offering — a little bit of stress relief. For the both of us.”

Roy feels his fingers flex, the ones on her back gripping her shirt and the others tightening their grip around Riza’s own fingers.

“You do too much for me already,” Roy forces out. “I could never ask you for something like that.”

“You’re not asking, Colonel. I’m offering.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I feel fine.”

He waits, lets himself breathe. “You’re sure.”

“Absolutely, Sir.”

Roy lets himself breathe once more, a deep breath to steel himself before he goes through with it, and lets it out as he pulls back to look her in the eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Roy.” She stops him before he’s able to lean in for the kiss. “Not on the lips,” she whispers.

It’s a gut punch, but one he should have expected. This is a transaction, what they’re doing. It can’t be anything more than that.

“My apologies,” he murmurs against her cheek. “I won’t do it again.”

_Not on the lips_ , she said, but Roy understands the implied permission. He’ll take what she’ll give. Always.

He kisses her softly where he can reach her; first on her cheek, where is lips are already pressed, and then her jaw, her neck, the soft spot below her ear. He kisses her while he can.

Without another word, they move toward the bedroom, hand-in-hand.

From there, he lets his hands speak for him. He lets them tell her how beautiful she is as they hold her and caress her. She responds in kind, fingers ghosting over his stomach and shoulders and threading through his hair. He kisses her beautiful neck as they strip each other of their clothes, slowly and deliberately. He tries not to let his hands shake, overwhelmed as he is with her. She’s firm and soft, rough and smooth. Pressed closely as they are, he can’t see her bare body, but he can touch and kiss and worship it the way she deserves.

“Would you turn around?” Roy asks. “Please?”

Riza sucks in a shuddering breath — the first sign that she might be as affected as he is — and nods. She turns, baring her back to him, and Roy is immediately transported to the memory of doing this to her.

Back then, he wasn’t able to apologize. She wouldn’t allow it. He knows she wouldn’t allow it even now; it was something that needed to be done, and there’s no use apologizing for doing what’s right. So he doesn’t apologize with his words. Instead, he flits his fingers over the scars, raised and smooth. He traces each one, and then, deliberately so that he knows she’ll understand, he kisses each one.

“Roy,” she whispers. She doesn’t need to say anything else.

Roy had always expected that if they ever made it to this point, it would be more frenzied. He’d expected they’d be caught up in a whirlwind of passion, unable to hold themselves back any longer. He’d never imagined this. He’d never _allowed_ himself to imagine something softer.

He almost wants to beg her. _Please let me kiss you. Please_. But he won’t, because then she’d say yes, and he won’t do that to her. He hopes, desperately, in a way he never allows himself to hope, that someday he’ll get that chance the way it’s supposed to be.

It’s Riza who pulls him close this time. She guides his hands over her body, wherever she wants them. Roy closes his eyes and leans his forehead against hers and allows the sensations to sweep him away. She’s bolder with his touch than he’d been before, guiding him to caress her breasts, showing him how she likes to be touched, and then lower until both hands are on her ass, and he gives into the urge to give it a squeeze.

She backs him up against the bed until he falls to a seated position, pulling her down with him. Straddling his lap, she’s taller than him now. He can’t help but smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she orders.

“Like what?”

She looks for a moment like she’s going to answer, but she doesn’t. He’s rarely seen her speechless before, and he’s not sure what to do about it.

“I’ll look at you however I please,” he says, hoping it comes out more lighthearted than he feels.

“Suit yourself,” she answers, and pushes him down by his shoulders. “We need a condom.”

Her bluntness is something he’s always loved and respected about her, but in the moment, it’s jarring.

“Right,” he mutters. “In my sock drawer, top left.”

He watches her climb off of him and rifle through his drawer. They’re buried in there, not used too often these days, so he can see his fill of her while she searches. When she finds them and turns back, he moves up and situates himself more comfortably on the bed. Riza doesn’t hesitate to climb over him again, perching herself on his lap with her hands braced against his stomach.

Her breaths are measured. She’s nervous, he realizes. He is, too.

He runs his hands over her thighs and hips, enjoying her weight against him and trying to soothe her nerves at the same time. He can feel his own heart pounding out of rhythm and wonders if hers is, too. He follows that curiosity and feels his way up her body until his palm rests against her heart. It’s thundering just like his.

“Come here,” he whispers, and she obeys. Roy pulls her protectively into the crook of his neck. He can feel her breath against his throat.

“I’m okay,” she says. Her lips brush his skin and he feels the way his body responds, cock twitching against her thigh. She pulls up again, just enough to rest their foreheads together like before and create some space between their bodies. Roy almost pulls her back until he feels her thin fingers brush his shaft, teasing, then gripping him and stroking until he’s fully hard beneath her.

He gasps at the sensation; it’s not exactly a new feeling for him — he’s had his share of women, and he’s certainly no stranger to his own hand — but to know that it’s _her_ touching him like this, that it’s _her_ above him, naked, receptive to his touch, allowing him to hold her and kiss her skin and be with her the way he’s wanted for so long, heightens everything.

“Riza,” he breathes. He can’t stop touching her. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to go back now that he’s had her like this.

He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but he catches himself when he feels her weight shift and hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper.

“Put this on,” she tells him.

“Wait— don’t you need— I mean— I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m fine, Roy. I’m ready.”

He looks up into her big, gorgeous brown eyes, and almost regrets it. She’s looking back at him like he’s everything, and he _isn’t_. He can’t be that for her, because compared to her, he is _nothing_.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to rush this. We can take our time, really. I want this to be good for you—”

“Don’t,” she whispers. That look in her eyes is still there, only sadder, and he hates himself a little more for whatever he said to make her feel that way. “Just stress relief,” she says. “Let’s have some fun.” She presses the condom into his hand again. “Put that on.”

He obeys. His erection has flagged a little without stimulation, but a couple of short strokes perks him back up, and Riza is lifting herself onto him by the time he finishes rolling the condom down to the base of his cock.

_“Fuck,”_ he moans as she sinks onto him. He lifts his knees so that his feet are flat on the mattress, and she seems to instinctively lean back against his knees, giving him a complete view of her.

She’s an angel. He’s always known it, and he’s imagined her like this more than once, but watching and feeling the way she bounces above him is something he’s not likely to forget.

He grips her thighs, relishing the feel of the way they flex under his palms. When he squeezes, she lets out a noise between a moan and a whimper, so he does it again. He runs both hands up her thighs to grasp her hips instead, and, feeling bold and more aroused than he can ever remembering being, bounces her more firmly on his cock, thrusting up into her at the same time.

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasps. Quiet sounds escape her as they come together again and again. On a particularly well-timed thrust, she _moans_ ; Roy has to stop before this ends way before he’s ready to let her go.

“What—”

He uses his grip on her hips to flip them both before she can ask why he’s stopped. He pulls out and immediately scoots further down the bed, lifting both of her legs up onto his shoulders. He can’t help but grin when he feels her instinctively hook her ankles together.

He wastes no time diving between her legs, hungry for her. The sounds Riza makes become breathier, higher pitched. It’s the sweetest sound, complemented by her sweet taste and the way her thighs squeeze around his head.

“That’s—” she’s cut off by a choked sound “— _good_.”

Roy chuckles, not bothering to pull away, and Riza arches her back in response.

“Good,” he says.

“I can— feel you smirking,” Riza says between breaths.

Roy doesn’t respond; instead, he shifts his attention to lavishing her smooth thighs, pressing kisses into her soft skin and working his way up to each knee and back down again while Riza pants and squirms. One hand works its way into his hair while he works. It makes him brave, so he gives into his impulse and sucks a long, dark mark into the meat of her upper thigh.

_“Roy,”_ she scolds, fingers tightening in his hair until it’s almost painful, but it sounds less like an admonishment than it’s meant to.

“Out of line?” he asks.

He thinks she sighs, though it’s hard to tell as she tries to catch her breath. Her fingers loosen their grip on his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp. It feels nice.

“No,” she answers. “Not at all.”

Maybe she’s lying, or maybe she isn’t, but selfishly, he wants her to feel his mark and remember this night for as long as possible.

“Good.”

A short tug on his hair reminds him that he’s in the middle of a task.

He sets back to work, paying special attention to every time she squeezes or tugs or arches or moans, and he knows she’s close when she tenses up like a bowstring.

She comes with a breathy whine.

It’s too tempting to kiss the breath out of her when he crawls on top of her. With her flushed cheeks and her lips parted so perfectly, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Instead, he covers the rest of her in kisses, from her neck to her breasts and back again, and sinks inside her once more.

Roy keeps his face buried in Riza’s neck as he thrusts into her, soaking up the smell of her shampoo and musk, encouraged by the breathless moans she makes.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. If she hears, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

He grips her thighs and pulls her legs up to wrap around his waist. He’s nearly overwhelmed, and it’s not long before he follows her over the edge, chasing his orgasm and thrusting into her as she breathes heavily in his ear. He finishes with a relieved groan as the tension in his body releases, and he allows himself to relax on top of her, wrapping his arms around her slim frame and holding her close.

They stay like that for a few moments. It’s going to be over soon, Roy knows. He tries not to be disappointed. He shouldn’t be. He’s happy, too, and grateful; he feels entirely bittersweet.

Riza stirs below him, and he takes his cue to roll over. He’s not ready to let go, though, so he pulls her with him. She indulges him, resting her ear against his chest and allowing him to trace his fingers across her flushed skin.

After a while, she sighs. The disappointment is swift as he feels their night coming to an end.

“I should go.”

“Won’t you stay?” he asks. He has to. If there’s any chance...

“You know I can’t,” she says. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks he hears a hint of melancholy in her voice.

She untangles herself from him and stands to collect her clothes. Roy haphazardly cleans himself off and watches as she dresses.

She’s buttoning her blouse, back turned to him, and he can’t help himself.

“Riza—”

“Colonel.”

His heart sinks. It’s over. There’s no arguing with her now.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she says. With her hand on the door, she turns back, just once. “Get some sleep, Sir.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

And she goes.

Roy sleeps.


End file.
